Power to Believe
by Sagemodeman
Summary: This is a one shot about Naruto in old age. Review it if you like.


**I do not own Naruto, that would be slavery!**

**A One Shot! **

**Power to Believe**

The dawning Sun rose above the trees and sent its rays through the leaves as they dripped with the dew encouraged by the previous night's rain. The earthy smell wafted across the forest to the compound nestled in between two small hills. An open window allowed the smell to drift into a bedroom on the second floor, awakening the senses of a man caught between a dream and reality.

The dream was a pleasant one, full of the faces of friends and places both exotic and plain. It had been a long time since his dreams were so vivid. As his consciousness fought the dream world the earthy smell triggered memories of two long ago days, one which brought him the greatest happiness and another the deepest of sorrows. One was the day he had asked her to be his wife and they had made love beneath the trees on the soft carpet of leaves after she had said yes. The other was the day he laid her body to rest never to see her smiling face again. Both days had that same smell, richness born from life and death of all things.

His consciousness won out the struggle for control and shut off the streaming dreamworld. He was alive another day, another cycle of the Sun to move across the sky and arbitrarily measure existence. He swung his legs out of bed and sat up. How odd to consider the mere act of getting out of bed. To upright ones body and command it to move about the world. He put his slippers on his feet and shuffled into the bathroom commencing his time-worn rituals in preparation for the next 16 hours of life before he succumbed to the dreamworld yet again.

His ritual completed he selected a pure white kimono from his wardrobe that matched his hair, long devoid of the color it once had. He stared at the face in body length mirror before contemplating the entire visage. He had changed, but who doesn't? He remembered the days of his youth and his reckless appearance, then the days of adolescence when he started to show more care for his self-image. Then his thoughts moved to how she had changed his perspective of his own image, causing him to actually consider her opinion above his own. As life progressed so did his care for that opinion, because it meant something to him. She taught him to consider his visage was a role model to others, influential and having meaning. So it was that today this white kimono was the proper choice.

Sounds could be heard below, the clanging of dishes, the voices of people, that meant something to him. Some were the voices of age, some of youth, all were voices he cherished almost as much as hers, for those voices were reminders of her. He walked down the steps slowly, no need to hurry he remembered her saying. A face appeared at the bottom of the steps, a young boy with yellow hair.

"Ojii-san!" A smile spread across the young mouth. It reminded him of many smiles he had seen in his life. He returned the smile and nodded. He motioned for the boy to run along, really unnecessary as the young have little patience for the slow-moving. He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the direction the young blond had gone. He stopped for a moment taking in the sight of the boy heading for a woman, his memory played tricks on him because for a moment he thought he was looking at his wife. The same eyes and hair, the same body shape. But he reminded himself she was someone else, still dear to his heart, just not the person closest to it still.

"Ojii-san!" This time it was the woman who looked up from the boy and saw him. Once again he smiled and nodded. She walked to him and took his arm and escorted him toward the dining area, the young boy taking his available hand and walking in step with him. He could smell the varied cooking odors that wafted through the area. Memories flooded yet again into his mind of breakfasts through the years. Some very plain and others grand affairs. His brain was enticed by his nose and his mouth began to prepare itself for the daily ritual of eating.

Around the table were faces dear to him. As he prepared to sit at the head of the table all the faces turned and smiled at him. Some were direct reminders of her face, while others held a hint of them or a reflection of his own. His counterpart at the other end of the table bowed to him before sitting. "Chichi"

The meal was another memory to add to the long line of memories he had stored up. Conversation was minimal until the food was consumed as was proper. Then earnest discussions began between contemporaries over their tea or coffee. He watched the faces converse, studied them, and noted those that showed concern or consternation. As a youth he would never have engaged in such observation, intent on being part of what was being observed rather than an observer. However, he now found observation more enjoyable. What does one say when one's mind remembers the same conversations thousands of times? How can they be different? Are they all the same? Observing them allowed him the opportunity to study the possibilities.

As the meal concluded he was given his due respect by the faces. Sometimes it was a kiss on the cheek or head, other times it was a firm hand to an arm or shoulder. He made his way to the porch which ran along the southern side of the building. His favorite chair sat waiting his arrival like it had done for so many years. It was worn and polished from the innumerable use he had bestowed upon it. The feel of it was like an old friend, inviting and comforting.

He dozed as the meal took it's course in his body, and the dreamworld gained a small foothold for a while in his mind. He was young again, he was on a mission with his teammates, they had to protect something, he couldn't make out what it was they were protecting, but they did their job together, a team. The dream changed, they were all older, they were fighting against something again, something huge and powerful. It was dangerous and they nearly were defeated, but yet again their teamwork prevailed. Yet again the dream revised, all of them were older and watching their own children begin working together as a team, the pride they each felt was yet again the successful completion of a mission, to have others to carry on after them. The dreamscape darkened then as he stood at the graves of his teammates, but he was not sad, he was telling them of their heirs successes, yet again proof their teamwork had paid off.

The dreamworld succumbed to his conscious mind again. He rose from his chair and surveyed the Sun with a shielded hand. It had climbed high and overhead, he walked into the well manicured yard toward a well-worn path that led into the woods. Here and there wildflowers bloomed and mushrooms sprouted from the invitation the rainstorm of the previous day. A short walk and he arrived at the shrine. He prayed for his friends, for his wife, for his family. Then he walked further on the path which opened upon a clearing, a meadow with a single object in it. It was a statue of a fox, well of The Fox. The nine tails behind differentiating it from the more common animal.

Curse, nemesis, companion, friend, compatriot. Words flooded his mind to express his feelings for his one time occupant. Long since passed to a new vessel, he hadn't sensed the presence for years, yet he hoped one day he might, perhaps before the dreamworld took him forever. He patted the head of the statue, wear apparent from the ritual. He then turned and made his way down the path, back to the chair and more dreams.

Sometime later he was startled by something touching his arm, he looked and saw a face. It was many faces. He saw them clearly, not changed by time, but full of life. They beckoned to him and standing from his chair he followed. The many faced being led him back on the path, by the shrine which now glowed with a blue hue. Further they walked, on to the clearing and to the statue, but now it was no statue but living, breathing. And it was not alone, behind it were eight others all living and breathing beasts of the Jinchuriki. They all gathered to him and offered their thanks and praises for his efforts on their behalf. He was confused, what was this all about?

But as his confusion set in they parted to allow a figure to walk between them. It was her, his beloved, but she was young again. He understood as she reached for his hand and smiled and he felt no fear as he took it and noticed he was no longer old either. They walked back along the path followed by the beasts. The shrine was still glowing and the beasts stopped there and made their farewells to him. He did not feel sorrow at their parting, he knew he'd see them again. The pathway changed from the one he was familiar with, this one climbed higher along one hill until it broke free from the trees and afforded a view of the house below and the village beyond. He could see the house was filled with so many people, his people.

Beyond it he noticed the village, his village, strong and vibrant and full of life and hope. Along a ridge to one side of the village he could see the old Hokage monument. The five faces of the Firsts as they were called these days. Each in their own right had led the village to greatness. He then turned to the other side of the village where a new Hokage monument stood, housing the Hokage known as Peacemakers. His face was there, but so were others, all of them he knew in one fashion or another.

A breeze picked up and a few leaves scattered from the ground and danced in the air. It reminded him of the 3rd Hokage's words "_When the tree leaves dance, one shall find flames. The fire's shadow will illuminate the village, and once again, tree leaves shall bud anew."_

He turned to face her, proud of his life and never giving up. He kissed her lips and they continued on the path that steadily led upward. He had done his part, His will of fire had been passed on to new generations who carried it proudly, he had seen to that.

As they crowned the hill a gate stood before him, gathered at it were the teammates, friends, and so many others who had gone before him all waving and shouting his name. He carried no worry or doubt with him, only the power to Believe.


End file.
